


quel dommage, mon amour

by DearSiouxsie



Category: Horror - Fandom, Prose - Fandom, Short Story - Fandom, baudelaire - Fandom
Genre: Folie a Deux, Horror, Late Victorian Period, M/M, Murder, Prose Poem, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Short Stories, Short Story, graveyard, short horror story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 23:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearSiouxsie/pseuds/DearSiouxsie
Summary: this really was just a short horror (?) story that i suddenly felt the need to write, listening to an equally dramatic piece of classical music
Relationships: Original Male Character/ Original Male Character





	quel dommage, mon amour

How could I have let this happen? Watching the light fade, the hope leave your body, any feeling of love and happiness, everything taken in such swift movement. I looked into your eyes but there was nothing, you were gone, only the half empty figure of someones lover stood before me. How pathetic you looked, grabbing onto your own killer for support. The ground soon claimed you, falling, so weak you looked, I wonder how I ever could have cared for such a creature. But oh! how sweet! satisfaction had never felt so good, nothing has ever felt so right than this dagger I held between my fingers, struck into your killers chest.

I lost count I admit, how many times I struck his pretty body. Perhaps in a another life I would’ve loved this man too. To be the one to take such little life, to play god. Were taught its one of the most evil things man can do but, I have to disagree. Why should I deprive myself of something that fits my needs so perfectly? Im straddling this lifeless corpse, looking over to your own. How pathetic, look at yourself, soaking up the grime left by mourners of the dead. To die by such meaningless hands is a shame. I would’ve liked to take it myself, but It seems I’ve been beaten in that race. how fitting this should all happen in a cemetery no less, such as god intended. You both will lay here for eternity and ever more, until your vessel rots and becomes the ground. 

The figure of a small little thing, a child, defenceless. Oh how you chose the wrong time to wander little girl, you’ve seen my crime. Im afraid such sin as this cannot have witnesses. What a shame! your mother will be so worried when her little girl doesn’t return. Three bodies lay before me, before the sky, the clouds. God himself i’m sure has seen this sorry state of affairs. My hands touch your face for the last time, the poets would envy me. To die over my lover, now dead, is what most would call poetry. How silly of me to think I could leave you, so cold and indecent, all alone. So this is how it feels to die, my dagger once my closest companion, is now closer than ever. Four bodies lay before god.


End file.
